


small comforts

by catpoop



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Cat!Keith, Dog!Shiro, Fluff, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Shiro makes a new friend :3





	small comforts

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil something inspired by emppu's [art](https://twitter.com/Emiinotsori/status/1091053975569338369)! thre r 3 in the thread and theyre all adorable :3

The rolling green hills stretch far out in the distance before him, cresting to meet the horizon and the indistinct blurs of civilization. With four feet planted firmly on the ground and head raised as high as it can go to survey his demesne, Shiro feels like a king. That is, until a fat brown wren hops into view and he lets out a loud _boof!_ before giving fervent chase.

He dedicates all of three minutes to the matter before another distraction flits into view (and the wren flies out of reach). Or rather, floats into his perked-up ears. He can recognise those barks from a mile away, and just over the next hill he spots Lance and Pidge wagging their tails frantically as they peer into the ditch in front of them. 

Shiro lets out a series of short barks as he sprints over, and Pidge turns around as he approaches, to answer the burning question of just _what_ has gotten them all riled up. Lance has yet to cease his auditory barrage.

“There’s a strange creature down there. We’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Having expected another, perhaps fatter wren, Shiro feels a wave of excitement rush over him, shaking him from his muzzle to the tip of his tail as gathers into a crouch and leaps down into the ditch without a second thought. He hears Lance’s screech too late:

“Be careful!”

An ungodly hissing noise reaches him first, then a blur of black that shoots past him as he ungracefully tumbles out of the way. Shaking himself as he rolls upright, Shiro regards the quivering ball of black fluff that stares him down from a metre away. 

“Hello,” he pants, tail thumping a steady rhythm against the ground as he lowers himself to the creature’s eye-level. A pair of bright golden eyes gaze unblinkingly at him – the continuous hissing is the only sign the fluff ball is alive.

Distantly, he hears Lance warning him to ‘get outta there! That thing has claws!’

“Hi!” He tries again, playfully pressed against the grass and trying not to inch forward too quickly – he wouldn’t want to scare it away. But if it is scared, the creature shows no sign, instead springing forwards with a sudden yowl. 

Shiro meets it with an excited yip of his own, ducking as the creature goes sailing over his head and something sharp catches against the fur on his face. Shaking himself, he bounds over and dips into another crouch, jumping only when the fluff-ball pounces at him. He stays out of reach once more, well-trained from all the play-fighting and sparring that fills his spare time.

On the third attempt, he catches the creature from behind, mouthing gently at soft fur before setting it down with an enthusiastic lick. Lance’s disappointed growl makes him pause.

“C’mon, bite it!”

“No!” Shiro retorts, bending to offer the creature another lick when he feels it go still under his tongue. Cocking an ear, Shiro realises the hissing has faded as well. Does that mean the creature doesn’t want to play anymore?

He noses cautiously at it, blinking when the fluff-ball responds only with a vibrating quiver.

“What is it doing?” Pidge’s inquisitive face peers down at him, her curiosity mirroring the look on Shiro’s face as he feels something brush against his fur and looks to see the ball of fluff tucked up under his belly.

“She’s not going to hurt you,” he coos, not sure if it even understands him, before remembering to answer Pidge’s question.

“I think it just wants a friend.”

Lance interrupts in an excited frenzy, loud enough to grate on the ears of any of those who are unfamiliar with him. “Oh! Oh! I’m great at being friends.” 

Sensing the reluctance emanating from beneath him, Shiro gives his new friend another lick before climbing back out of the ditch. It follows with ease despite their difference in stature, and Shiro lets out a happy sound at the thought of a new addition to the pack – some kind of soot grey dog, he eventually decides.

He barks happily, and is met with a resounding tremor at his belly.

Lance looks a little less happy, sniffing cautiously at the dark bundle of fluff and letting out a sneeze that rattles him to the tip of his tail. He makes sure to keep a wide berth after that, though it means staying away from Shiro, too.

“That’s a weird dog, Shiro.” Lance whines as he leads their trio towards a nearby gathering of sheep, because in his book, barking at sheep all day and night is one of the finest examples of entertainment. Personally, Shiro prefers to lie in the sun with a stick between his teeth, or else run laps around the open expanse of grassland with a friend in tow. But he follows after them anyway, if only to appease a curious Lance.

“We found it first, though…” Lance reminds, but the creature doesn’t leave Shiro’s side.

“What _is_ it, anyway?” Despite her shorter legs, Pidge confidently keeps up with Shiro’s long strides and nudges curiously at the small dog still calling Shiro’s underbelly a shelter.

“A dog.” Shiro says.

She tilts her head. “No way! I’m the smallest one on the farm and I’ve _never_ seen another dog tinier than me.”

“What about a puppy?” Lance offers, and Pidge trails off in a dissatisfied hum.

Shiro cranes his head and gives the puppy another lick. “Did you lose your parents?” He asks, and the big round eyes that stare back at him offer no answer.

“Well, we’re all a family here,” he whuffs happily.

In truth, they’re a mismatch pack of dogs linked not by blood but by the generosity of the owner of the small farm a ways from where they currently are, offering food and shelter whether or not they are working dogs. He has no doubt that there will be space for an extra fluff-ball amongst them.

 

Shiro doesn’t start having doubts even later in the day, when he lies down for an early evening snooze and is soon accosted by a regular at the barn. The new puppy is settled lightly on his front paws and Shiro can feel a soft vibration from its little body against his muzzle and paws and he yawns contentedly. A sudden noise interrupts him.

“What’s that?” Griffin yaps, brown ears twitching as he squints at Shiro’s new friend. The most diligent of the lot, Griffin seems to take it upon himself to make sure everyone’s abiding by the farm’s rules even if they are, for the most part, completely free to run around and sleep in the shelter and do whatever they want.

Shiro licks the puppy, feeling it pause in its steady rhythm. “A new dog.”

“It doesn’t look much like one.”

“It does to me.” The puppy blinks bright golden eyes in tandem agreement and Griffin gives one last suspicious sniff before trotting off.

“What’s your name, anyway? I can’t keep calling you puppy.”

He gets an owlish blink in reply.

Griffin comes back for a second question in what feels like as many minutes, because he has been tasked with making sure none of the dog food is eaten by anything… non-dog. Which mostly entails barking his lungs out whenever a stray raccoon or two decide to investigate.

“Does your ‘dog’ eat dog food?” He nears for another sniff, when a sudden hiss grows in the air. Before Shiro can investigate the source of the sound, James leaps up with a frightened yap and retreats to a safe distance.

“That thing scratched me! Shirogane, your dog just scratched me!” He shakes his bleeding muzzle in confirmation before backing away with another panicked yelp.

Shiro stiffens under the dozen stares directed his way, some curious, others accusing. He whines in apology, but Griffin has already run off to tend to his wounds.

“Hey, puppy…”

The dog ignores him, unlike everyone else in the barn. Pidge soon bounds over, looking worried.

“Are you _sure_ that’s a dog? You know scratching’s never cool…”

Shiro exhales a whoosh of hot air at the bristling puppy and it settles back into its regular spherical form. Hearing his sigh, Pidge gives him a look and squints at the puppy, too.

“Be careful, okay?”

Shiro blinks up at her from where his head has settled on his paws once more. “I know.” The puppy doesn’t make a noise.

He can’t go back to his nap now, unsettled by the strange events but also reminded of dinner by Griffin’s question. Stomach growling, Shiro gets to his feet with his little buddy in tow, though not before giving them a reprimanding nudge.

“No scratching, okay? I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” With its terribly cute appearance, Shiro can only melt under the puppy’s pair of golden eyes and give the unruly tufts of black fur another happy lick. 

Griffin eyes the pair of them with suspicion from his spot by the bowls of dog food, but doesn’t make a move to stop them as Shiro confidently pads over to the nearest bowl.

He pauses before digging in, unlike the puppy who attacks the food with gusto. “I’m sorry about my new friend – he’s young, you see.”

Griffin sniffs. “Just as long as he’s not some kind of strange raccoon.”

Luckily for them both, the puppy in question eats only a fraction of what a raccoon would make off with before retreating back to Shiro’s side. A little pink tongue appears for a millisecond to lick away a few crumbs of kibble before disappearing once more.

“And here I thought you were just a pair of eyes and a lots of fluff,” Shiro muses as he finishes off the rest of the bowl. Said eyes blink slowly back at him, drooping in what could be tiredness.

Shiro has to agree. Belly full, he meanders back to the comfort of his previous spot and rolls lazily onto his side while the puppy settles against his chin. A miniscule but forceful lick against his muzzle has Shiro chuffing with a pleased laugh.

 

The following morning, Shiro has already forgetten the puppy’s previous hiccup when he leaps awake at the prospect of a new day. The puppy tumbles upright with him.

“Are you ready to go outside?”

Not all of the others have awoken yet, but Shiro’s always been an early riser and the gleam in the puppy’s bright eyes mirrors his own.

“After me!”

He tears out into the field, long legs covering a great distance before remembering his smaller, probably much slower, peer. Tongue lolling as he pants lightly, Shiro whips around to search for the black shadow he’s left behind, only to startle when an excitable blur darts around his front legs.

Surprised that his partner can keep up, Shiro happily picks out a nearby landmark – the old beech in the distance – and runs and runs and runs until he can collapse in a panting, laughing mess. The puppy pounces onto his side, similarly shaking with exertion but still agile enough to roll out of the way when Shiro snaps a playful bite at him. 

Maybe it’s the puppy’s delicate size, but Shiro never seems to be able to land even the barest of bites unlike their first encounter. As insubstantial as a ball of fluff, the puppy hovers ever so out of reach at his ankles until Shiro gives up with a growl and topples ungracefully to pin the little devil to the ground.

A strangled yowl coming from beneath startles him. Shiro leaps to his feet and wags his tail in apprehension at the betrayed half-moon slits staring up at him. Set in a distinctly _feline_ face, he notices a second too late, which is enough for the pup- no, _cat_ to scramble to its feet and dart away to a safer position. 

Shiro lets out a short howl of dismay. “I won’t hurt you, kitty.” He settles in a passive slouch, nosing at the ground in the direction of the cat, noting rather late that the strange puppy-smell they had all caught wind of yesterday really wasn’t a puppy smell at all. But still a good playmate, he thinks. Even if the ball of fur has unfurled itself into a skinny black cat with a big bushy tail, currently pointed stiffly at the sky.

The cat doesn’t blink.

“I _like_ cats,” he continues, rolling to reveal his belly. “And I’ve never had a cat friend before.”

“F-Friend?” He doesn’t see the cat speak, but the soft word is unmistakeable.

Shiro’s ears flick happily upright. “Yes! We can run around together, and catch rabbits, and sleep in the barn at night, and –” He pauses, noting the lack of response. “Unless you don’t want to…?”

After a solid minute of silence, through which Shiro can feel his happy countenance fading rapidly, the cat asks: “What about licks?”

“A-And I can lick you. If you want.”

“Okay.”

And with that, the cat elegantly steps back to his side, butting his head against Shiro’s chin as he hesitantly offers a big wet slobbery kiss. The cat _purrs_.

In between another heated game of chase, the cat tells Shiro his name is Keith, that he’s wandered around as a stray for at least a year, and that he loathes dry dog food. Shiro feels his ears droop, which gives Keith enough of an opportunity to pounce at his head and hang on with half-sheathed claws until Shiro admits defeat.

“What _do_ you eat, then?”

“I saw some fat chickens roaming around just next door,” Keith says slyly, and Shiro pauses in shock.

“You can’t, someone owns them!”

“I know,” Keith reassures, but it doesn’t stop Shiro from having a minor heart attack when Keith wanders back from a brief detour later in the day to offer him a freshly slaughtered quail. He is ready to refuse, preferring the more familiar option of kibble, but agrees almost instantly upon meeting Keith’s liquid gold gaze.

Shiro chews hesitantly on a tiny drumstick as he watches Keith tear the quail from leg to leg with vivid enthusiasm. Two pairs of canines grin at him around a chunk of meat that quickly disappears down the black hole of Keith’s gullet.

“Delicious, right?”

“It’s… alright. Thank you for sharing.” He noses at Keith in reassurance, and the cat goes back to eating without any sign of complaint.

“…More for me, then,” he mumbles later, mouth full.

 

Despite all their differences, Keith remains solidly by Shiro’s side, a move that Shiro happily accepts as they sprint towards the distant white blobs of grazing sheep, run up trees to attack particularly fat birds (just the one time, and Shiro had stayed on the ground to paw at the trunk), and share dinner when night falls. Unlike the last time, Keith makes a spectacle inside the barn as he fillets an unfortunate bird. Shiro placidly munches on his own food beside him.

The other dogs stare.

Pidge and Lance do a little more than stare, trotting up to them as Keith violently tears another chunk of meat off the bone. Lance keeps distance when his nose starts twitching, though his voice is loud enough to be heard by them and the rest of the barn.

“Shiro… what is _that_!”

“A cat, Lance, and his name is Keith.” Shiro says, watching warily as Keith turns from his meal to hiss wetly at the pair.

“Are you… sure that’s a good idea?” Pidge says slowly, and Shiro frowns at the implication.

“He won’t cause any trouble, will you Keith?” Keith shakes his head, chewing.

“That’s good. But Lance –” 

At that moment, Lance erupts with a sudden explosive sneeze that sends him tumbling to the ground. He sniffs wetly, moaning.

“Eurgh… help I’m dying…”

“Cat allergy,” Pidge explains to Shiro’s curious gaze, and he balks. Keith imperceptibly creeps closer to his side, licking at one paw.

“Oh no, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Lance mumbles, at odds with his previous dramatics but still looking watery-eyed. “Won’t be too bad…”

Still, Shiro feels guilty as the pair wander back to their corner after a shorter conversation than usual. So does Keith, it seems, if the way he’s tucked himself between Shiro’s front legs is any indication.

“I’m not going to tell you to leave if you want to stay here,” he says. “As long as you don’t purposely set off Lance’s allergies.”

“Hmm…” Keith makes a contemplative noise before wriggling on the spot to lick at his legs in silence. Shiro stares at the way his tiny pink tongue rasps through black fur for a few solid minutes before settling his head down to gaze at the other dogs. 

Aside from Matt and Lance’s vertical race up the creaky barn wall, nothing interesting happens and Shiro feels his eyelids begin to droop, hastened by the warm body purring against him.

He hears it faintly, when almost on the verge of unconsciousness. “Thank you, Shiro.”

And just like that, they start up a routine, waking with the sun and exploring the vast reaches of the farm and navigating the others dogs that inhabit the area. Most are curious, one gives chase – to which Keith lets out the most bloodcurdling yowl and throws himself claws-first at the offending dog – and one congratulates him on his victory. Matt, fearless despite witnessing Keith take down a dog four times his size.

Keith preens.

The one downside is that everyone now knows of Keith’s formidable nature, so much so that Lance corners Shiro one evening when the cat has run off to hunt, brown eyes wide as his whole body shakes.

“Be careful, Shiro! That cat’s gonna get you killed – like how he’s sabotaging my breathing.”

“He’s a friendly cat,” Shiro sighs. “Anyway, it was only because Rolo started chasing him first.”

“Yeah, but…”

It’s no myth that dogs don’t always get on well with cats, but Shiro likes to think he’d befriend every cat if they were all as cute and cuddly as Keith. He relays the sentiment to Lance, who wrinkles his nose and lets out a short sneeze. 

Keith slinks out of the shadows with a bird in his mouth to sidle up against Shiro’s front legs and stare up at Lance.

“Okay, okay! I get it, I’m leaving!”

“What’s his deal?” Keith mumbles after dropping the bird to the ground.

“Don’t know.”

 

In the following days, it seems the question is better suited to addressing what _everyone’s_ deal is, if the strange looks Keith is getting are able to be explained. When Shiro spots Griffin’s gang run off at the mere sight of Keith riding on his back while he trots placidly along, he turns to ask his half-asleep friend:

“Why is everyone so afraid of you all of a sudden?”

A single golden eye peeks at him. “Dunno.”

“Well, there _has_ to be a reason, right…” Shiro contemplates, all the while making sure his steps don’t jostle his passenger too much. “Have you been scaring the others?”

“No.”

And he agrees with Keith, because who on earth would be intimidated by his cute demeanour? Except for Rolo. Appearances aside, Keith has been nothing but loyal and friendly since they first made up. Generous too, to the point that Shiro occasionally has fowl-flavoured dreams of getting feathers stuck in his teeth as Keith watches him eat.

Keith snickers upon hearing about his dreams. “You think about me too much.”

Not _only_ Keith, Shiro thinks. The sensation of gnawing at a juicy bone. Or the wind ruffling through his fur. The usual dreams, broken up in their repetition by some Keiths and an unexplained… purple thing.

He tells Keith as much, and the cat gazes at him silently.

“Strange, I know. Have you seen a purple animal before?”

Keith shakes his head and goes back to grooming himself, leaving Shiro to contemplate the strange blurs of purple that have been haunting his dreams with the same regularity as Keith. Maybe some kind of strange rodent?

He ponders the thought as he did the second time the unmistakeable creature made an appearance in his unconscious and gets no closer to figuring it out.

 

Shiro gets his answer in a couple of days, without any effort on his part.

He wakes up to a horrendous screeching. 

“ _Ahhh!_ Stay away from me I don’t deserve this!”

“Lance?” He mumbles groggily, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

Far from providing an explanation, Lance lets out another screech, and Shiro forces himself to his feet before prying his sleepy eyelids open. The sight has him doing a double-take.

The purple creature!

Fighting down the urge to scream himself (as Lance is already doing plenty), Shiro takes a moment to properly assess the scene before him. And it _is_ right before him, instead of happening off in the distance where most of them sneak out to do their business at night.

“I just want to take a dump! Leave me alone!!”

His assumed attacker is a bristling purple creature, about as tall as Pidge on her hind legs and with claws to rival a skilled bird of prey. It swipes at Lance as he flees outside, whimpering. Shiro doesn’t have a chance to scare off the bloodthirsty monster before it turns around to face him.

He startles at the pair of bright yellow eyes, but not nearly as much as the creature itself does a comical hop on the spot and shakes itself, suddenly diminishing in size and hairiness to a familiar-looking cat.

“K-Keith?”

Keith meows quietly.

“W-Was that _thing_ …”

In lieu of an answer, Keith nuzzles closer to bury his head in Shiro’s belly, and the sensation is nearly enough to convince him to settle down and go back to sleep. It takes an effort to step away from Keith, and the cat makes a mournful noise.

“Keith… was that purple thing…?” When the cat looks ready to bolt, Shiro adds, “I won’t tell you to leave. Just tell me the truth?”

“Mm… me?” He says, as if asking Shiro for confirmation.

“The purple thing was you?”

“Maybe? It doesn’t matter anyway…”

“It does matter if you’re scaring the other dogs,” Shiro reminds. At that moment, Keith turns to shoot a disdainful look at Lance as he creeps back in, post-dump.

“Lance was disturbing your sleep,” he mutters.

“Because he was screaming in fear?”

Keith grumbles.

It takes a little more encouragement, a thorough grooming session, and one late evening walk under the stars for Keith to finally admit he’s been hiding secrets. He looks away from Shiro and the stars for a moment, shakes his head with ears flattened against his skull, and suddenly morphs a size larger.

Shiro can’t see clearly, but knows that Keith is now a purple shade. His impressive claws are similarly deep blue-black, but his eyes remain two guileless mirrored pools. They stare unblinkingly up at Shiro, awaiting judgement.

“Aren’t you scared?” It comes out a whisper.

“I like purple,” Shiro admits. “And as long as you still want to be my friend…”

“Of course I do!” Keith takes an indignant step towards Shiro but falters one fluffy purple paw in.

He ducks his head to give Keith a lick before the cat can turn back into his normal appearance – which he does a second later. “Then it’s settled.”

“O-Oh. Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> can dogs even see purple
> 
> [twit](https://twitter.com/hashtag_yikes)


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